A Way Out
by leafgreen27
Summary: Takes place during season 9. ( episode 9x11 spoilers!) In a seedy motel room, just off the highway, sits a girl. He told her to wait. He told her he'd send her somewhere safe, and that He'd explain everything there. But things are never that simple when you know what's really waiting out there in the shadows.
1. Chapter 1

_Nothing on… As usual, _Hannah thought. She tossed the remote on the bed and sighed. Normally, she'd be seriously grateful to have a few moments to herself, where those people weren't trying to kill her. But right now…she was completely bored out of her mind. He'd told her to wait here, that he'd give her further instructions later, but he'd never really said how long later would be. Knowing him, she'd probably be stuck here waiting for years, doomed to a life of cheap room and board, cold pizza, and suck-y daytime television.

Then the TV went static. She knew she'd turned it off, she was sure of that. _Please… not the lights._ She could hear her own heartbeat pounding inside her head. Sure enough, the lights in the room began to flicker. Once… Twice… Three times. She whipped her shotgun out from underneath the bed, stood up, and faced the door, square. If this was the day she was going to die, she didn't want to do it sitting on her ass like the scared little child they thought she was. She knew what was coming next. Or so she thought…  
She could hear a faint, high pitched ringing. Hannah turned her head toward the TV again, frowning. Nothing had changed. It was still showing static. Now the ringing was getting louder. Her head jerked up, as she saw the ceiling starting to shake, the light fixture bouncing around like a cork in water, dust falling from the plaster.  
She cocked the gun, aiming it at the door. She knew it was stupid to do this.  
_I mean, do you really expect them to use the door, moron? You know how they work_, she chided herself. _If they want to get to you, some door is not going to stop them._  
Now the ringing was louder than ever, so loud that it hurt. Hannah couldn't help but drop the gun. She clutched her hands over her ears, half expecting that there'd be blood on her palms if, and when, she pulled them away. It was so painful now, that it was all she could do to keep from screaming, as she crumpled to the floor.  
Then, suddenly, it stopped.  
She felt out of breath, and she was surprised to feel cold sweat on the back of her shirt. Gingerly, she lifted her head from the floor, and pulled her hands away. They were shaking, but thankfully, there was no blood.  
"What the hell was that?" she said, slowly picking herself up off of the dusty carpeting. Unfortunately, this was one of the pitfalls of living on her own for so long. She often talked to herself, asking herself questions that she honestly knew she'd never get an answer to. But this time, that was exactly what she got.

She heard a familiar, gravelly voice. His voice.  
"Listen to me. I need you to pay attention very carefully."  
Then, just as it had several times before, her mind filled with short flashes of images, in lightning quick succession. A big, stone building that looked like some kind of abandoned warehouse. Except it wasn't abandoned. Someone, or something, had warded the hell out of the place. There were hidden symbols all over it. Then she saw a door. The front door, with a big wheel lock. An old muscle car of some kind parked outside the building. Black, with an Ohio license plate. A chain link fence surrounding the entire place, then finally a road sign: Lebanon, Kansas.  
"Go there. Now." He said, and just as quickly, the images were gone. She was on her hands and knees on the floor again. She was still shaking, but somehow, seeing those images had made her feel calm. Calmer than she'd felt in years, almost…safe, but she had no idea why. It wasn't a word she was used to having in her vocabulary anymore. She did know one thing for certain, and that was if He told her to go now, she should go now. Every time He had told her to leave somewhere immediately, it was because she was in danger. She couldn't even count the number of times He had saved her life that way, and she was pretty sure it was one of the only reasons she was still alive today.

She got up, grabbed her backpack off the dresser, and started packing up her supplies. She grabbed the guitar case she hid her weapons in, and unzipped it, grabbing an old towel, and wrapping her shotgun inside it before closing it back up. She flipped open her laptop, waiting for the damn thing to boot up while she looked in the bathroom for her toothbrush, and cell phone. She tossed a Ziploc baggie with her toothpaste and deodorant in her bag, and checked her laptop again. She opened the browser, and looked up a map to Lebanon, Kansas. She was relieved to find, that it wasn't too far away from where she was now. She could be there by the morning if she drove fast enough, and took the back roads. She erased her search history, and the cookies, just to be on the safe side, shut the laptop down, and packed it up with the other few things and clothes she had left. She grabbed her 45 from the nightstand, checked that it was fully loaded, and strapped it to her waist. The last thing she did before turning out the lights, was grab the angel blade she carried with her wherever she went, out from under the pillow on the bed. She rolled back her sleeve, strapped the blade to the holster on her forearm, pulled her sleeve back down, picked up her weapons case, and slung her backpack over her shoulder. Hannah opened the door, locked it, and took one last look around the room. She wondered, vaguely, if she'd ever have the chance to feel bored again, before walking out into the still night air, and closing the door behind her.

It was a good thing that she'd left when she did, because not ten minutes after she'd pulled out of the motel parking lot, and headed down the highway, room 157 was blown apart by a white, hot light.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel was distracted. He thought she would've been here by now. He'd contacted her last night, just before they arrived on her doorstep. He was sure that she'd left immediately, (she always did), and he knew she wasn't dead. He would've felt that. Maybe he shouldn't worry about that now. The problem at hand, was how to tell Sam, and Dean.

The boys were sitting at a table, their laptops in front of them, focused on finding a new case. They'd been stuck here for the past three weeks with nothing to do, except the occasional food run, which the boys took in turns. Sam would go one day, then Dean would go again a few days later. Cas could tell that they were getting restless, Dean especially so. Things had been tense between all of them since Kevin had died, and Sam had gotten free of Gadreel's hold on him. Cas knew Dean blamed himself, even though there was nothing he could've done, going against Gadreel alone. And it didn't help to see Sam feeling guilty, knowing he had been used as a tool to Gadreel's means. There was no reason for either of them to feel responsible for what had happened, but then again, Kevin had been like family to them, so it seemed only fair to make amends, and do all they could to put things right.

_But at what cost? _Castiel thought to himself.

"Hey, Cas!" Dean yelled.

Cas tuned, as a wadded up paper ball, hit him in the side of the head. Sam, and Dean were both staring at him. Dean was looking a little annoyed, while Sam just seemed thoroughly amused.

"Yes?"

"You with us, buddy?" Sam asked, trying not to laugh.

Cas glanced on either side of himself. He was perched on the edge of the table next to theirs. "Obviously." He stated, holding his arms wide. It was the easy questions like this, that made him feel exasperated.

Sam and Dean just glanced at each other before Dean continued, "Yeah. Well, good news is, I think I found us a case."

He turned the laptop toward Sam. Cas stood behind Sam, and looked over his shoulder, as he closed his laptop. It was a news article from a local paper.

"A motel room in Hebron, North Dakota exploded at about eleven p.m. last night."

"Wait, what do you mean exploded?" Sam replied, his forehead creased, as he scrolled down through the article.

"Cops think it was a gas leak…" Dean said, knowingly.

"But?" Sam looked up.

Dean folded his arms on top of the table. "But what kind of gas leak do you know of, that leaves a _single_ motel room in splinters, and burnt to a crisp?"

"You mean the rest were completely fine?"

Dean just inclined his head to one side, as a response.

"Any casualties?" Sam was clicking through the photos that accompanied the article.

"No, luckily."

They were so concentrated on the possibility of a new case that, at first, neither one of them noticed, that Cas had gone as white as a sheet. It was as if he'd suddenly lost the ability to hear them. There was a photograph of the room's exterior. Dean was right, the room had been ripped to shreds, and the outside walls were black with soot. The inside looked even worse. From the other pictures, Cas could see that all the furniture was so charred, it was in danger of collapsing into ash, and the appliances, like the television were melted into unrecognizable, shapeless masses. He wasn't sure, but he thought he recognized the room, somehow. He leaned past Sam, and scrolled back up to the photo of the Motel room door, or what was left of it. It looked like someone had shot a cannonball through it. Right where the door had been, Cas could just make out the brass room tag hanging loosely on one side of the wall. Room 157. The same room _she'd_ been in.

"Hey Cas, you okay?" Dean said, having glanced up finally. He was surprised to see Cas, of all people, looking like he was going to faint.

All Castiel could manage was, "Yes. I'm fine." but Sam, and Dean still looked worried. Cas knew it was wrong to lie, and he felt bad about lying to them, but now was not the time to discuss it. They needed to get answers, and they needed to get them now. "Let's go now."

"Wait," Sam stood up, grabbing Cas by the arm. "Hebron is like, twelve hours from here." He looked taken aback, and confused. "Even if we leave now, we won't get there until late tonight. Cas looked at Dean, expecting him to be on his side. But instead, he was looking at Cas, like he knew something was off.

"In the Impala yes," Cas said carefully, trying to hide his anxiety. "But not if _I_ take you."

"Why are you in such a rush?" Dean replied. "Do you know what did this?"

"I'm almost certain."

"Okay, then what is it?" Sam asked.

Cas sighed, already impatient. "I believe this was the work of Angels."

"What, you think they tried to smoke somebody? Like another vessel?" Dean asked, getting up to pour himself a drink.

"Possibly...I don't know for certain. But I'm more hopeful, that this will get us one step closer to finding Gadreel, and Metatron."

That got their attention. Dean, and Sam stared at each other for a minute, stunned. If there was one thing they could agree on, right now, it was that they wanted to see Gadreel, and Metatron dead.

"Well then I agree. Let's go." Dean immediately set down his drink.

"Right behind you," Sam added, grabbing up his laptop as both he, and Dean raced down the hall to go get packed. They returned less than five minutes later. They were both wearing their FED suits, Sam carrying a green duffle bag in one hand, while Dean slipped an angel blade into the inside pocket of his jacket.

"Ready?" Cas asked. He knew Dean hated being, what he called "Zapped".

"No, but go ahead." Dean said straightening his tie. "Let's gank these sons of bitches."

Sam nodded.

The brothers closed their eyes as Cas stretched out his fingertips, and in a split second, they were gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Hannah was exhausted. She wasn't sure exactly where she was going, and she'd been driving all night. She'd pulled into a gas station to get some sleep at one point, but sleep never really came. Every time she closed her eyes, she could still see the white light of the explosion. As she'd driven away she had seen it clearly in the rear-view mirror. And if she wasn't reliving that, her dreams would be haunted the same way they always were: with memories of the day her mother had been murdered…for nothing. She saw her mother's face, hear her voice telling Hannah to hide in the living room closet, and to stay quiet no matter what happened. She could still see the three men, dressed in black suits, and ties. Hannah had thought then, that they looked like accountants, or some kind of business men. She knew better now. One of the men had stepped forward, asking her mother where Hannah was. Her mother told him that she didn't know. Hannah had been shocked to see her mother so shaken by the arrival of these men, and the one in particular. She had called him Cainan, as if they'd met each other before. He had been the one to kill her mother.

Hannah was only twelve at the time, and had no other family. She'd had to fend for herself from then on, stealing what she could, and what she needed to survive. Picking the locks on motel room doors, whenever she didn't have the money to pay for a night or two. She usually never stayed longer than that in one place. After her mother had been killed, she had had more than one run in with various men and women, all wearing the same black business suits. And not just them either. Two years after her mom had died, she wound up cornered by a guy with black eyes, at a diner in the middle of nowhere. He hadn't tried to kill her, although from the look in his eyes, once they went back to normal, told her that he had much worse things on his mind than killing her. She'd been saved at the last minute, by a scruffy looking man in a baseball cap. He'd killed the thing by saying something that Hannah couldn't understand, and she watched from the floor in horror, as the guy's mouth opened wide, and thick, black smoke rose into the air. Once it had disappeared through the ceiling, the guy collapsed in a heap on the floor next to her. The man knelt down, and checked the guy's pulse. Then turning to her, he introduced himself as Bobby Singer, but that she could call him Bobby.

"But don't ever call me Bob," he'd said, pointing a finger at her. "Or I'll hurt ya." She wasn't sure if he was serious or not, but she never once tried called him Bob…Ever.

He had treated the fact that he'd just killed a guy, in the middle of a practically empty diner, like it was nothing. He'd helped her to her feet, sat her down in her booth, told her to wait there, and then proceeded to drag the dead guy out the door by the ankles, huffing and puffing the whole time. Normally, in that kind of situation, she wouldn't have thought twice about getting the hell out of there, but she'd been too much shock to move. She just sat there, numb, staring blankly at her slice of half eaten apple pie. He came back in a few minutes later, sitting down in the seat opposite her. She'd watched as he'd taken a navy blue handkerchief out of his pocket, wiping the sweat, and dirt off his face, before putting his hat back on.

"How you holdin' up, kid?"

She'd just stared at him. "How am I _holdin' up_?! You just killed a guy!"

"Well, as long as you're yelling at me, I know you're not gonna go into shock, or something." he'd chuckled, slipping the handkerchief back into his pocket. "And that wasn't a guy. It was a demon. And I didn't kill him," he added indignantly. "He'll be fine."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"A demon?" Bobby looked at her, incredulously. "You know, as in Hell?"

"Wait… If that's true, then what the hell would a demon want with me?!"

"Now isn't' _that_ the million dollar question…" then the annoyed look on his face softened just the slightest, before he said, "What's your name kid?"

"Hannah…" she'd said, staring at her hands in her lap.

"Hannah what?"

"Wesson."

She'd replied, a little too quickly. It almost sounded defensive. "Hannah Wesson…"

Bobby leaned forward, and looked her in the eye. "But that's not your real last name. Is it?"

She could tell he already knew the answer to that one. She just shook her head, blushed, and stared at her lap again.

Just then, the waitress came over. "Can I get you two anything else?"

"No thank-you." they both said in unison. The waitress, whose name tag read 'Julie', just raised her eyebrows. Hannah heard her say "Sheesh." under her breath as she walked away, and back into the kitchen. Hannah guessed so she could twirl her hair, and flirt with the cook some more.

"Well Hannah," Bobby said, leaning back in his seat, and resting an arm on the back of their booth. "You got someplace to stay?"

She shook her head again.

"Well in that case, I've got a place a few miles down the road from here. Plenty of space. There might even be a room with your name on it. If you want it, of course."

"Why are you inviting me to stay with you?" Hannah asked, surprised. "I don't know you, and for that matter, you don't know me. I could be a serial killer, for all you know."

He'd laughed at that one. "Kid, trust me, if you were, you could've held your own against that demon. Couldn't have killed it, but you could've held your own. And I'm asking you, because I think you'd be safer with me, for now, until we can figure out why some demon went after you in the first place."

Hannah thought about that for a minute. He definitely had a point.

"So a Demon…huh?"

"Yeah..." Bobby nodded slowly, still looking at her.

Maybe this man could help her figure out who those men that had killed her mother were. Or _what_ they were. Plus, he had saved her life tonight.

"Okay," she told him. "Deal."

Bobby reached an arm across the table, and they shook hands.

"We're gonna need to work on that handshake, kid." He added, pulling out his wallet, and laying a five dollar bill on the table. She'd forgotten about her pie, and suddenly looked down at it frowning. He got up, as she poked at a few pieces of apple. They plopped off her fork like tiny weights. Clearly her pie had gone cold. _Gross_.

The disgust must have shown on her face, because Bobby looked at the pie, then at her, and went, "C'mon kid, I've got pie at home."

"Really?" she said, looking up at him. She wasn't sure why she was smiling about that, but she was.

"Trust me kid," Bobby said, rolling his eyes, as she stood up, and hurried to put on her jacket. He gave her shoulders a squeeze, as they walked out the door. "I've got a whole freezer full of nothing, _but_ pie."

That first night at Bobby's was definitely unusual. After they walked through the front door, he asked her to follow him into the kitchen. He then proceeded to pick up a flask, and a knife. Hannah was ready to make a b-line for the door again, until he explained that all this was precautionary. The flask was filled with holy water, which was to make sure she wasn't being possessed. The knife, he explained, after splashing her in the face with the water, was made of silver. All she had to do, was make a small cut on her arm, to prove she wasn't some other kind of monster. She grudgingly agreed, and after he'd seen for sure that she was human, he handed her a towel, while he patched up the cut on her arm. That night was also the first time, in a very long time that she'd slept in a bed, and in her own room on top of that. Bobby hadn't been kidding about the freezer being full of pie. It was packed to the teeth, mostly with cherry, which she hated. She noticed from the kitchen table, that all the boxes of pie had the name 'DEAN', written on them in capital letters with black marker. She wanted to ask, but thought another time would be better.

They talked for a long time that first night, Bobby asking her a bunch of questions, as she sat at his kitchen table, and watched him place the frozen pie in the oven. He asked her about where she was from, why she was on her own, and so on, and so on.

To this day, she could still remember the look on Bobby's face, as she told him what happened to her Mom, and about the men who had killed her, and that they'd been looking for Hannah in the first place.

"Do you know why?" Bobby said, taking a sip out of the beer he'd grabbed from the fridge, after he'd gotten her pie out of the oven for her, and given her a fork.

"No, I was hoping you might. Do you think they could've been Demons?"

"No. No Demon I've ever heard of can do that to a person. I am sorry, about your Mom, I mean."

"Don't feel sorry for me," Hannah said, cutting off a piece of the pie with her fork. "Just tell me how to fix it."

"Fix it?" Bobby said, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Yeah." she answered, quietly. "So no one else has to go through the same thing."

Bobby just smiled at her, before taking another sip of his beer. "Then we've got work to do."

From then on, Bobby became the closest thing to a real father Hannah had ever had. She lived at Bobby's full time for two years, learning anything, and everything about hunting from him. Demons, Ghosts, Ghouls, Vampires, and Werewolves. Even Zombies, Shapeshifters, Wendigos and Revenants, not to mention practically every other monster and creepy crawly you could think of. He taught her how to shoot a pistol, and a shotgun. How to make shotgun shells, and fill them with rock salt. He taught her how to use a knife, and how to make, and use a stake. And he made damn sure, she knew how to patch every kind of wound.

He finally let her go on a Demon hunt with him when she turned sixteen, and as an early birthday present, he gave her what was still, her favorite weapon: Her trusty 45. That "hunting trip", was the job that changed things. Before her, or Bobby could exorcise the Demon, he'd smiled that evil smile at Hannah, and said, "I know what you are, _girl_." He practically spat the last word at them.

"What are you talking about?" Bobby demanded, raising a hand to keep Hannah from lunging at the Demon they currently had tied to a chair.

"That mark on your neck?" it hissed, smirking at her.

Hannah, involuntarily, put a hand to the back of her neck, just above her shoulder.

She looked at Bobby, confused. "It's just a birthmark. What about it?"

"Just a birthmark…" It laughed again.

"What about it?!" she repeated, almost shouting this time.

"Don't let him get in your head, kid. Just ignore him." Bobby said, but Hannah wasn't listening.

"That birthmark?" The Demon glared, and leaned toward them, baring his teeth at Hannah. "It let's the whole world know… that you're a monster."

The Demon grinned, leaning back in the chair, enjoying the absolute silence that followed this little piece of information.

"That's not true." Hannah managed. Her voice sounded hoarse. "I'm not a monster. You're lying."

"Am I? Why do you think those suits were looking for you?"

Hannah's blood ran cold. How did he know about that? She'd never told anyone but Bobby about that. Any of it.

"How do you know about that?" It was Bobby who asked.

"I know all about what she is, and more importantly, I know what that brand on your sorry hide means." He looked from Bobby, to Hannah again.

"You're so smart why don't you just tell us?" She was getting really agitated now.

"You know the whole reason they killed your mommy was because of you right?" the Demon smiled. "If you hadn't have been born, she'd still be kicking. It's your fault she's dead."

"SHUT UP!" Hannah yelled. She lost control, and lunged at the Demon before she knew what she was doing. She grabbed him by the throat, and chair and all, pinned him to the wall. She was happy to see that now, the Demon wasn't laughing anymore. Now, he looked terrified.

"S-s-see what I m-mean?" It stuttered, half out of fear, half from the choke hold Hannah had him in.

"Hannah…" She heard Bobby say cautiously, from behind her.

She turned her head to look at him. He was staring at her in complete shock now, and that bothered her. She knew there wasn't much that could shock Bobby. He turned his head toward an old, tarnished mirror that hung above the abandoned house's cracked mantelpiece. She followed his gaze, and found herself staring at her own reflection. But something was wrong. It was her standing there, but her eyes, instead of being their normal color, they were glowing faint silver, almost blue color. She immediately backed up, letting go of the Demon. Then she realized… She had never been able to do that before. Sure she was strong, but there was no way she could've picked up a full grown man, with one hand. Not until now, apparently. After she backed up a few more steps she looked into the mirror again. Her eyes were back to their normal hazel. The same color her mother's eyes had been.

She looked at Bobby, who was still standing there staring at her, but at least now, he looked as if some of the initial shock had worn off.

"I'm sorry… I… I don't know what-" She started to apologize, but he cut her off.

"It's alright, kid."

"Well if you'll excuse me," the Demon interrupted them, "I really am a very busy man, and I have things to do." and before either of them could get a word of Latin in edgewise, the demon disappeared.

"Balls!" Bobby swore, then looked at Hannah.

She was shaking from head to toe, not because of the Demon, but because of what she'd done. She'd just snapped, and it had scared that Demon. What if he'd been right? What if she was a monster? What if she snapped like that at Bobby? What if she hurt him?

"Kid?"

"What's happening to me, Bobby?" She was crying now, something she rarely did, especially in front of Bobby.

He came over, and put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a kind of half hug.

"It's okay, kid. We'll figure this out."

He let go of her, once she was able to get her tears under control. She didn't say anything. She barely even looked at him, as she threw her backpack into the trunk of his car. She climbed into the passenger seat, and closed the door, as Bobby started the engine. As the headed down the road, Bobby glanced over at her, and said, as if he'd read her mind, "You're not a monster. You know that right?"

"Yeah, I know…" she told him, quietly. She watched, as the world passed by out the car window. After seeing that reflection of herself, and what she had done, she wasn't so sure.


	4. Chapter 4

_How hard can it be to find a huge-ass, abandoned building? _Hannah felt like she was going in circles. She'd been driving around for hours, and now she was starting to get really pissed off at herself. Normally, she was very good with the directions He gave her…or any directions. She had no problem reading a road map, which was a good, since she'd never really trusted those stupid GPS things.

_Maybe I should just turn around, try the other way… _She thought.

Then she saw the fence. _The_ fence. The one He'd shown her. She slammed on the breaks, and she heard the tires screech to a halt. It was just a fraction of the chain-link metal. It was covered in overgrown dead grass, and plant life. You could barely see it, which explained why Hannah hadn't managed to spot it before.

"Thank God for that…" She breathed a sigh of relief, resting her forehead against the steering wheel for a minute, before deciding what to do now. She remembered a nice crowded parking lot a few minutes in the opposite direction. She decided that she would park there, then walk back. Hopefully there would be a road or something she could follow, but if not, there was always the option of jumping the fence. She was kind of hoping for the latter. It sounded like a lot more fun.

"So you have no idea how this could've happened?"

"No, sir."

Dean stared at his notes. There wasn't a hell of a lot to go on here. He'd been questioning the owner of the Motel for a while now. He glanced back to the poor guy in question. Pale, heavy-set, with thinning hair, and even worse: a comb-over. Yeah, that explained a lot. Dean had no idea, until now, that they still made sweater vests.

He cleared his throat. _Focus_.

"And you said earlier, that there was no one here but you, at the time of the explosion?"

"Yes, sir. Well, actually…" The man said, nervously wringing a hat in his hands.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"There… there was one other person here. A customer."

Dean could see the guy sweating now. Tiny little beads were collecting on his forehead. The man looked at him, apparently expecting a response. Dean just stared back, and waited. When the guy didn't answer, he had no choice but to ask.

"Do you have a name?"

"Oh! Yes, sir. I do. It's in my ledger, inside, if you'd like to take a look."

"Ledger?"

"Well, it's more of a guestbook really. I make all my costumers sign it."

_I'll bet you do_, Dean thought, as he followed the man to the front office. He caught Sam's eye, and motioned for him to join them.

"Did you find anything out from Ladder 49, over there?" Dean asked, once Sam caught up.

"Yeah. Turns out, that the nearest gas line is at least 10 miles from here."

"So, _definitely_ not a gas leak then?"

"Nope."

Dean wasn't surprised to hear this, and neither was Sam. They'd both taken a look at the motel room, along with Cas, (What was left of it anyway), first thing. It had looked just like the pictures…except worse. The furniture had been charred, and was falling to pieces around them. The TV was a shapeless blob. You Dean wouldn't have even know it was a TV, if there hadn't been an antenna sticking out of the top…sort of. Even Sam was shocked to see the bathroom mirror had melted to the tile wall. Dean had laughed, and said that the reflection made Sam's head look weird. Well, weirder than usual. Sam had just grimaced, and moved on trying to find any evidence of sulfur, although what demon could have done this, he had no idea. He even tried the E.M.F detector, just to rule out all the possibilities, but like he'd expected, they got squat. When they'd finished inside, Sam suggested to Dean, and Cas, that he should go talk to the fire department, and the two of them should go check on the owner of the motel.

"No, I uh…" Cas started to say. Sam and Dean looked at him. It wasn't their imagination. Cas looked visibly upset about something. "I think I'll sit this one out." Cas added looking in at the Impala.

"Are you sure?" Sam asked. He noticed Dean had that look. That look, when he knew someone wasn't telling the whole story, but he let it slide.

"Alright. Well then, why don't you just wait out here, and keep an eye out for anything…unusual. Okay?"

Cas didn't say anything, just nodded his head once, and walked off, hands in the pockets of his trench coat.

Sam nudged Dean in the shoulder. "Does he seem a little…"

"Off?" Dean replied, looking at his brother, then back at Cas leaning up against the Impala's passenger side door. "Yeah."

He shook himself out of his own thoughts, as they followed the guy inside, and watched him bring up a long, leather bound book that had the word 'Register', embossed on the cover in gold lettering.

"There you go Agents." The man said, looking way too pleased with himself. Dean tried to ignore him, and the creepy kitten calendar, hanging on the back wall behind the counter. He flipped through the pages, until he found the very last entry.

"Rosalind Smith. Checked in four days ago to… Room 157..."

The brothers looked at each other, then at the owner, whose smile quickly faded.

"The room that exploded?" Sam asked.

"She wasn't in the room when it happened! I have security cameras that-"

"You have security footage?!" Dean practically yelled. The guy shrank back, seeming even smaller than he already was, if that was even possible.

"What my partner means to say," Sam said, realizing that now was a good time to step in, before Dean throttled the poor guy. "Is that, it would have saved a lot of time, if we had know that before."

"Of course, I apologize. I should've-"

"Sir, can we just see the footage?" Dean said, leaning over the counter. "Please?" Sam added. Usually, Dean could tolerate most of the people they came into contact with, but he was _this_ close to losing it with this guy.

"Of course," the man said again, hurriedly typing away at his keyboard. "Here." He turned the screen toward the brothers. Sam, and Dean stared, as a girl with dark blonde hair, who looked about 22 or so, walked into the front office where they were now standing. She handed the man a credit card.

"Did her name," Sam said, shifting his feet, "match the one on her card?"

The man jumped, and rushed over to a stack of receipts laying on his desk. The brothers continued to watch the girl on the video wait for the owner to swipe her card, and give her a room key.

"Yes sir, the card matched the name she signed with." He said, handing over a copy of the receipt to Sam.

Dean was still watching the video, looking for any signs. The girl looked straight at the camera. Her eyes were normal, no flash. She wasn't a shifter then. He watched as the owner handed the girl a room key, and she turned to leave, she was almost out the door, when the man called her back. Dean noticed that he'd brought out the "Guestbook" again, and was holding a pen apparently, asking the girl to sign it for him. He laughed as the girl gave the owner a harsh look, and grudgingly walked back over to the counter. She slowly took the pen he'd offered, and flipped open the book with the other hand. She signed it, slammed it closed, set the pen down, instead of handing it back to the guy, who had reached out his hand for it, and walked back out to the parking lot. Dean switched his attention to the other camera feed, as the girl got into a 1970 blue Camero. Nice choice, he thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam write down the license plate number, and then put the notebook back in his pocket.

"Well, I think we have all we need here," Sam said, taking one of their false business cards out, and handing it over to the owner. "But call us if you think of anything else, okay?" The guy just nodded. Dean couldn't help but notice the guy's hand shaking, as he took it from Sam.

"Thank-you for your time." Dean said, pulling his best fake smile, and following Sam out the door. How had he lost his temper so easily? He was pretty sure he knew the answer to that, but he didn't want to think about it right now. He couldn't, they were on a case. _Snap out of it… _Dean told himself. He looked up when they got to where Cas was. Dean thought he still looked upset, but if the fact that Cas wouldn't look anywhere, but his own feet was any indication, there wasn't much of a chance of either of them getting a word out of Cas. At least, not right now.

"Are you ready?" Cas asked finally looking at them.

"Yeah, we're ready." Dean said, interrupting Sam, who'd been about to say what they were both thinking: _What are you not telling us? _

"Take a breath." Cas said, before once again, touching the tips of his fingers to the brother's foreheads. Dean last thought was that, whatever this was, whatever Cas was hiding from them, it was not going to end well.


	5. Chapter 5

She'd had to go with jumping the fence. There was no other way around it. _Actually, there probably was_, Hannah thought. _Oh, well_. She'd gotten impatient after wandering around again for twenty minutes, trying to find a path, but ultimately she just decided, "Screw it." She knew They were still looking for her, and she felt anxious being out in the open, on her own, for this long.

Luckily, she hadn't had to walk very far before she found the place. She stood outside for a minute, taking it in. It looked in even worse shape in person, than when He'd shown it to her. But if this is where He wanted her to go, she'd go. He'd helped keep her alive this long, hadn't he?

She walked around a corner of the building, and saw the car. The one she'd seen in the… she hated to use the word, but… _vision_. She'd thought the Camero she'd hotwired was nice, but this? This car was something else, she could tell. Whoever the owner was, they knew their stuff, and had made sure to take care of this car like it was their only child. It was beautiful, if it was possible for a car to be beautiful. She couldn't help herself, and walked over to examine it more closely. She tried not to drool over the black leather seats, and laughed, when she noticed someone had jammed one of those little, green plastic toy soldiers, inside the ashtray by the backseat. It was then, that she saw the reflection of a door in the car window, and turned around. _How had she missed that? _Then she remembered. He'd shown her a door with a wheel lock, but the only thing was… this door didn't have one. Not on the outside, at least. She walked over, being careful not to slip on the stairs that led down to it. It had rained recently, and the last thing she needed was to slip, and twist her ankle. Then, she really would be screwed. She set her bag down, and stared at the heavy metal door. She expected to find a keyhole, but didn't see one. "Shit." she swore, then made a silent apology. Her mother had always hated it whenever she swore.

_How the hell am I supposed to get in here? _

She ran her hands over the metal surface, hoping to find anything that might help her get inside. _Maybe the keyhole is hidden under a panel, or something? _She jumped back, as the door gave.

It didn't open, but went back into place. She thought for a second, then placing a hand on the edge of the door, pulled it back. It swung outward, making a loud creaking sound in the process. _That was… convenient_, she thought. Over the years she'd come to learn, that convenience was just a trick. She drew her pistol, turned off the safety, and slowly walked in. She made a mental note as she did so, that the wheel lock she'd seen before was, indeed, on the inside. _Figures. _

She immediately stopped, and her mouth fell open.

_This place is incredible…_

The doorway had opened onto a balcony, and she could see the whole layout beneath her. It was a brightly lit, stone room. With arches, high ceilings, and hardwood floors. There were long tables, with chairs on either side, and each table had a lamp. There were weapons sitting on display on top of some of the shelves, there were leather arm chairs, and a gigantic map of the U.S. up on one wall. But the books… Oh, the books… This was, by far, the best place he'd ever sent her, with one exception: The diner where she'd met Bobby. Hannah never liked to admit it to anyone, but she kind of loved reading. If she didn't know any better, she would've guessed this place was some kind of library.

Except that someone had left a laptop, several open books, and an empty booze bottle spread out across two of the tables. Clearly, she thought, somebody was already living here. Who knew how much time she had before they got back.

Quickly, she grabbed her bag from outside, and there was a satisfying sound, of metal on metal as the door slammed shut behind her. Now she was nervous. Yes, He'd sent her here, but under what circumstances? How did she know that whoever owned this place, wouldn't find her here, and unload the barrel of a gun on her? She hated it when He didn't think these things through. It wasn't the first time it had happened, and apparently the time before this, hadn't been the last, like she'd been hoping for. She decided to just make the best of a bad situation, and just go with making herself at home, for now. She'd put her gun away, find a place to stash her stuff, and then go from there.

If Hannah had thought this place was impressive before, it was nothing to how she felt about this place now. It was even larger than she'd thought. For starters there was, what she assumed, was a kind of computer room. She guessed, from the type of computer, and not to mention all the antique furniture, that this place was built at least some time in the 1950's. There was a kitchen, and even a bathroom, shower and all. Also, there were several bedrooms, two of which were already occupied, but the rest were free. She'd picked a room across the hall from the two that were already taken, and tossed her bag in there. She could always unpack her stuff later, if she was allowed to stay, anyway.

_Okay, so two people, and judging by the stuff, two guys._ She'd poked her head into the first room, and didn't see much of anything. There was an unmade bed, a TV, some more books, (_apparently, someone here who reads too, _Hannah mused.) but other than that nothing much.

The other occupied room… was a totally different story. This guy had clearly made an effort to settle in as much as possible. The bed was made, loads of weapons, mostly guns, were mounted neatly on the wall. There was a record player, with several vinyl records laid out next to it. Hannah made sure not to touch anything, but craned her neck to see what kind of taste this guy had. It looked like all of it was classic rock, and she had to restrain herself from grabbing an AC/DC vinyl out of the stack, and cranking it up. She had to be in the mood for it, but Classic Rock, was one of her favorites.

She was about to walk out of the room, feeling kind of guilty, and like she'd intruded way more than enough, when she noticed a picture on the desk. It was a small, older photograph. It wasn't in a frame, just sort of propped up against the desk lamp. Before she could stop herself, she'd picked it up, holding it gently so she wouldn't bend it. It was a picture of a pretty, blonde woman, and a little boy. The boy couldn't have been more than five, or six years old. Mother and son, maybe? She thought the little boy looked vaguely familiar, but she didn't know why… Something tugged at the back of her mind, and told her it had something to do with Bobby's place.

Suddenly, there were voices. They were coming from the outer room… the library. There were three of them, all of them male. _Three? But there are only two other rooms that are taken. _She drew her 45 from it's holster around her waist, and walked as silently as she could, out of the room, and down the hall. She listened a little more closely. Two of the voices, she didn't recognize. The other one, she was surprised to find, she did. She would have know that voice anywhere. It was His voice. Finally, she might be able to put a face to the voice that had helped her so many times since her mother had been killed. She had to take a few deep breaths, to calm herself down again She was excited, and nervous, but she couldn't let it get the better of her. Hannah took one last breath, before chancing a glance around the corner. They were standing around one of the tables, two on either side, the other at the end between them. The two wore business suits, and this made Hannah's heart skip a beat in fear, until she realized the suits didn't match the ones Cainan, and his men wore. The were all fairly tall, but the one towered over the other two, with a good three, or four inches. He had long hair, for a guy, that came down to his shoulders. He was busy arguing with the other man across from him, who was hurriedly trying to remove his tie. He made it seem like the thing was trying to choke him to death, the way he tore at it. Hannah wondered why his hands were shaking so badly, as he tried to undo the knot at his throat.

"Dean, Come on. You practically took that guy's head off."

"I told you, I'm fine Sam."

"No, _Dean_. You're not."

"Sam's right. Dean, even I can tell something's, 'off'."

"Leave it alone, Cas. Look, can we just get back to the important stuff? Like this case?" Dean said, annoyed, finally getting the tie undone, and tossing it aside, and watching it land on top of the table.

Hannah stared at the third man, the one he'd called Cas, the one whose voice she'd recognized. He had dark hair, blue eyes, and was wearing a trench coat. The thing was, she knew he wasn't a man. That he wasn't human. He couldn't be, not with the way He'd communicated with her over the years, but it was more than that. She wasn't exactly sure how she knew this, but she did. It was like a gut feeling. An instinct. It was the same way she'd know from the beginning that Cainan, and his minions, weren't human. There was something off, and not just with this "Dean" guy. Although, she did have to agree: Something was wrong with him. Very, _very_ wrong. And she still couldn't shake the feeling that the two were faintly familiar to her. Why was that?

Then it clicked. Dean, and Sam. Sam, and Dean. Bobby's Sam, and Dean. These were the Winchester brothers, and they were the closest thing Bobby had to family, aside from her. She knew where she'd see their faces before. The photographs, in Bobby's journal. This Dean was the same Dean, that had marked all those boxes of pie in Bobby's freezer with his name in black marker. And she was almost certain, that Bobby had let her "borrow" one, or two of Sam's old t-shirts. They were in her bag right now, the tag marked with the initials S.W. on the back, in the same black marker. They'd always been big on her, so usually she just slept in them. Now, she thought, that seemed a little creepy…

"_Screw it, they're comfortable. I'm keeping the shirts."_ Hannah told herself, firmly.

She snapped herself out of it, and leaned her head back against the wall, so she couldn't see them. She had to think of what to do next. She had a feeling that just walking right out there, was not the best idea. Plus, it already looked as if the brothers were having a bad day. And what was she supposed to say?

'Sorry I broke into your… house, but your buddy in the trench coat told me to.'

Yeah, that would go over well. She could hear Bobby now: "Idjit."

It wasn't a perfect idea, but unfortunately, it was the only one she had. She put her gun back in the holster, gathered up the little bit of courage she had left, and walked around the corner, and into the room.

But no one was there. She was so stunned, she stopped short. Maybe she shouldn't have put her gun away after all, even though Bobby would kill her if he found out that she'd shot either one of them. She walked toward the table they'd been standing around moments before, glancing on either side of her. She didn't see anything. _Where the hell did they go?_

She didn't have to wonder long, because one second she was standing in the middle of the room, and the next, Dean Winchester had pinned her to the wall, with an angel blade at her throat.


	6. Chapter 6

"WHO ARE YOU?!" Dean yelled, so loudly it made her ears ring.

Hannah's mind went into slow mode. She couldn't think straight. _No one_ had been able to take her by surprise like this. Ever. She opened her mouth to say something, but when nothing came, she closed it again.

Dean was still glaring at her, waiting for her answer. She'd never had a guy, except Bobby, look her in the eye before. It was unnerving. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something was wrong with him, and part of her really wanted to put as much distance as she could between the two of them. There was something behind those green eyes, something in the back of Dean's mind that wasn't entirely… _human. _

Instead of telling him, "Hey, let's do this: You drop the angel blade, and I'll talk," what came out of her mouth was:

"What's wrong with you?"

It was followed immediately by, '_There was probably a better way to phrase that…'_

"What's wrong with _me_?" Dean repeated, raising his eyebrows at her.

She watched out of the corner of her eye as Sam, and the one called Cas, walked into the room again. Sam was carrying a pistol, at the ready in his hands, but lowered it, when he saw Dean had the situation in hand. Literally.

"How the hell did you get in here?" Dean, went on.

She couldn't stop herself. "Next time you leave, you really should lock the door, Moron." The word 'moron', hadn't been her first choice, but it was the one she'd decided to go with.

Dean took a step forward, taking the blade away from her throat, and pointing it under her chin instead. Hannah could feel the sharp metal digging into her skin. It wasn't enough to cut her, but it still hurt. Hurt enough to force her to look up, if only to try and get away from the blade as much as possible could, given the circumstances. She had a feeling Dean knew that. He knew _exactly_ what he was doing. And maybe, she thought, that was the problem.

Not taking his eyes off her, he said, "Sam…"

"Yeah?" Sam replied, looking nervously between her, still pinned to the wall, and his brother.

"Go get some holy water, and a knife."

Hannah watched, as Sam hesitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to let his brother out of his sight, and from where Hannah was standing, he had a good reason not to.

"Now, Sam." Dean said, getting impatient.

Sam looked at Cas, who nodded once. Sam turned on his heel, and walked out of the room. Hannah could hear his footsteps echoing down the hall.

"Dean," Cas said walking forward, slowly.

Dean glanced in his direction, but still kept a tight hold on Hannah. She didn't have the heart to tell him that, if she wanted to, she could easily overpower him. Then he'd be the one pinned to the wall.

"Let her go."

"Why?" Dean said, looking at her again, this time with a newfound interest.

"Because I'm the one that let her in." Cas stated, bluntly.

Hannah noticed Sam had come back, holding a flask in one hand, and a silver knife in the other. Although, he seemed to forget just about everything, after hearing that Cas had let a perfect stranger into their inner sanctum. Hannah saw the blade in Dean's hand go slack, ever so slightly…

She bolted.

She shoved Dean's arm out of the way. The force sent him flying, and he landed hard on the floor, on the other side of the room.

She heard Sam shout, "Hey!" behind her, but didn't stop to look, as she raced down the hall.

She could hear Sam, and someone else running after her. She needed to find a way out of here.

She tried a door. Locked. She tried another. Locked. She tried another, and another, but they were all locked. _How many doors does this place have?_

She finally found one, but the door was jammed. She threw her shoulder up against it, forcing the door open. She slammed it shut behind her, just as Sam came racing down the hall.

With any luck, she thought, it would take Sam a much longer time to get it open. She took a look around her. Great, she thought. She'd managed to lock herself in a storage room.

Then she saw stairs. _Yes, thank God, a back door. _She took the steps two at a time. She heard the door break open, just as her feet hit the last step. She could see a door at the end of the storage room, slightly ajar. She raced toward it, flung open the door, and found herself in.._. _Well, it looked like some kind of horror movie, torture chamber.

There was a devil's trap painted on the floor, in the middle of the room, and inside the trap was a chair. The chair was what creeped her out the most. It had leather straps, and what looked like iron cuffs, and chains hanging from it. She didn't think much of anything could escape from this. Possibly, herself included. She heard the sounds of footsteps behind her. They weren't running anymore, they were closing in. Sam was the first to speak.

"Turn around. No sudden movements, or I _will_ shoot you."

She didn't have a choice now. She raised her hands slowly, and did as he asked. Sam, and Cas were both looking at her, Sam holding his gun yet again.

"What are you?" Sam asked, his hands shaking slightly. "Werewolf?"

"That's the best you can come up with?"

Sam looked a little annoyed by her answer, but at least his hands weren't shaking anymore.

"I'm sorry about you're brother. I didn't hurt him did I?"

"He'll be fine." Cas answered, giving her a small smile.

"You're the girl from the Motel. The one in Hebron, North Dakota that exploded? Dean, and I saw the security footage, and there was no flash to your eyes, so obviously, you're not a shifter. "

"The one that… _what?_ What do you mean it, 'exploded?'" Hannah said, lowering her hands slightly. She'd seen the flash of white light in her rearview mirror, but that had been all. Or so she'd thought.

"The door was shattered into splinters, and everything inside was either melted, or charcoal." Sam explained, and lowered his gun. "I guess you didn't know about that."

"No, I didn't." Then she had a horrible thought. "Oh, god! No one got hurt, or… killed, did they?"

"No, you were the only one there."

"Good." she said, letting out a breath in relief. Then awkwardly, she added, "Can I… put my hands down now?"

Sam glanced at Cas, then back at her. "Yeah, go ahead." He told her, pocketing his gun.

Which is when Dean came thundering down the stairs. Hannah felt a weight drop into her stomach. Dean looked like he was in some pain, and he was cradling his arm, as he walked toward them. It looked like she'd dislocated his shoulder. He was still holding an angel blade in his free hand.

He grimaced at Hannah, then turned to Cas.

"Cas, a little help here?"

He touched his fingertips to Dean's forehead, and in the blink of an eye, Dean's injury was healed.

"So, you let her in…" Dean said, circling Hannah like a lion circles prey.

"Why would you let her in?" Sam added to Cas, finishing his brother's train of thought.

"I let her in, to keep her safe." Cas sounded tired to her.

If this was the kind of thing he had to put up with everyday, Hannah could definitely understand why.

"So I'm guessing," Dean paused, turning to Cas. "That you two know each other?"

"Kind of." Cas, and Hannah answered in unison.

"_Kind of?" _Dean parroted.

"It's complicated." Cas said, like this answer explained everything.

"Well, do you mind un-complicating it for me? Because I'm lost!" Dean yelled.

"That makes two of us." Sam added, folding his arms across his chest.

"Dean…" Hannah said, taking a step toward him. He looked surprised that she'd used his name. "My name is Hannah. I'm a… _friend_… of Bobby's."

"Bobby? As in Bobby Singer?" Sam said.

She nodded. "You can call him. He'll vouch for me."

Sam, Dean and Cas all exchanged glances. She looked at Cas, but he wouldn't meet her eyes. Sam looked uncomfortable, and Dean was staring at the floor. He finally set the angel blade down, laying on top of a desk in a corner of the little room.

She knew something was very wrong. Wrong with Bobby. Her heartbeat was going a million miles a second, and she felt like she was going to be sick. "What is it? Is he okay?"

She watched as Dean pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. "For such a good friend of Bobby's, I'm surprised you don't know."

"Know what?" She was afraid she already knew the answer.

"Bobby's dead, Hannah." Sam answered her, gently. "He's been dead for two years."


End file.
